Monthly Archives: December 2008

Finishing Off 2008. Good Riddance.

Projects undertaken in the Unfocused household in the waning days of 2008:

  • I made a shield for Unfocused Girl’s impromptu Athena costume, using a cardboard cake circle and duct tape.
  • Mrs. Unfocused hung Unfocused Girls’ giant paper mache sea creatures from the ceiling of the kids’ room.
  • I started a new short story, because I need a break from outlining Project Hometown and I wasn’t at my desk to work on the revisions of Meet the Larssons.
  • Mrs. Unfocused made a quickie Bolt birthday cake for Junior.  No pictures — I’ll post photos of the more elaborate one she’ll make for his birthday party in a couple of weeks.
  • We learned to play two of the games the kids got from Santa:  Clue, Jr., and the Scooby-Doo Haunted House 3D board game.
  • I started teaching Unfocused Girl how to play chess.
  • I made Junior cry by capturing one of his pieces when he demanded that I teach him chess, too.

We don’t have any particular plans for tonight — we’ll probably watch a movie with the kids, stage a fake countdown around 9pm, go outside and make some noise, then put them to bed and go back downstairs to have some champagne.  Or some more champagne.

Happy New Year to you and yours, and here’s hoping 2009 is a better year overall than 2008 has been.


Winter Sunday Stats #2: Guess I Have to Shave Tomorrow.

Sigh.  Five days off, and now back to work in the morning.  It’s been fun.  I’ll do a holiday wrap up soon, but the Unfocused family had a very nice Christmas.  Some quick stats:

On Running: Nothing today, but only because I put in 7 miles on the treadmill on Friday and 6.32 miles dodging ice and giant puddles outside on Saturday when it hit 60.  By the end of my run yesterday, the arch of my left foot was killing me, and despite Tylenol and some ice, it’s still sore.  I’m pretending it isn’t plantar fasciitis, and will try to run on the treadmill in the morning.  I’ve been slacking and it’s time to knock it off.

On the iPod: Most of the podcasters I listen to regularly seem to be on vacation for the holidays, which left me with some space on my Mini for the 9-hour audiobook Metatropolis, edited by John Scalzi.  I have listened to the stories by Jay Lake and Tobias Buckell, and I’m partway through Elizabeth Bear’s entry.  I’m enjoying it; I’ll try to post a review when I’m done.

On Writing: The usual excuses — work during the lead up to Christmas, family time during and after — abound, but I’ve gotten a little done on both of my works-in-progress since last Sunday.  I moved the needle on the revision of Meet the Larssons, if only from 107 to 110 pages revised.  Those three pages of the first draft now have eight pages of new, handwritten material sandwiched between them, though, so it’s more than it looks.  The outline of Project Hometown is up to 10,587 words.  My next step is an expanded plot synopsis, which I’ve essentially already done, so now I’m moving on to detailed character charts, although I’m not entirely sure what that means beyond figuring out the birthdays and descriptions of the main characters — I wrote up their goals, motivations, and storylines a couple of steps ago.

I’m thinking through my New Year’s goals and resolutions, and will of course post them when they’re ready, sometime around Groundhog Day.  I saw fellow Absolute Write forum denizen Jen at Scribbling has already posted her ambitious writing resolutions for 2009; maybe I’ll just copy hers, but cut everything in half.

Merry Christmas. Now I’m Ready for Your Stinkin’ Zombies.

The Mrs., who loves me and knows me all too well after more than 20 years together, put a box with this and this under the tree for me.  I am now ready for your basic zombiepocalypse, Obsidian blackout, or sudden change in the laws of physics.

Not to mention clearing out shrubbery and those annoying maple saplings that pop up by the compressors for the A/C every spring.

Here’s hoping you got something really useful for your gift-giving holiday of choice, and that you have a happy and healthy 2009, and that no one tries to eat your brain.

Stalking Santa.

NORAD tracks Santa. We love this.

Adam Sandler Still Rocks.

I’m too tired to post anything meaningful, so instead, I give you a live performance of a holiday classic:

Chappy Chanukah, everyone.

What Have I Done?

Everyone was doing it, okay?  I mean, that’s not why I finally broke down, it’s not the reason, or even an excuse, but everyone was doing it.  So how bad could it be?  Right? Right?

It was when I googled my own name — my own name! — and found two people there, with my name, but they weren’t me!

I have a very unusual name.  The idea that there could be other people with the same name didn’t shock me, I’d seen them before in search results, but they were always down low, maybe on the second page.

But these hits were high.  First page, near the top.  And they aren’t me!

So I did it.  Not because all of you are already doing it — don’t deny it! — but because people looking for me would already think I’ve done it.  So I decided I might as well.

But I didn’t know, I didn’t understand — the hours wasted, the time gone — now I know, but it’s too late.

God help me, I joined Facebook tonight.

Winter Sunday Stats #1: Brrrrrrrr.

Baby, it’s cold outside.  It was 6 below zero (Fahrenheit) at 9am when we left the house this morning for the Christmas Pageant and concert at church, 3 below when we left at 2pm, and is still 3 below now at 7:30pm.  That’s before wind chill.  We did have a salt truck come up our street last night around 11 while I was shoveling, but it has been so cold that the salt doesn’t have any effect.

Tomorrow, it’s supposed to go up to 11.  It goes to 11.

I did the world’s longest post yesterday, so I’m going to keep this short.  Here we go:

Running:  Not much lately, and none today — too much going on this morning.  Today was the Christmas Pageant at church, and Unfocused Girl gave an outstanding performance as the Archangel Gabriel (“Gabe,” to her friends, the Archangels Mike and Ralph).  It was also the annual Christmas concert, and Mrs. Unfocused was the soprano soloist; she sang Lauridsen’s O Magnum Mysterium, and then Benjamin Britten’s A Ceremony of Carols, as a soloist and with the choir.  She was — as usual — mesmerizing; she’s got pipes.

Yeah, I’m bragging on my wife and daughter.  Deal – it’s my blog.

iPod: I’ve been getting an education in writing science fiction and fantasy from the Odyssey Writing Workshop podcasts.  Odyssey is a six-week residential writing program for science fiction and fantasy writers, and they’re putting a number of lectures by established authors and editors from the workshops out as podcasts.  I don’t recognize all of the speakers, but they’ve mostly been very interesting.

Writing:  Not so much.  I’ve gotten some good work on the outline of Project Hometown (almost entirely during my commute), but I’m still mired in the character synopses for the minor characters.  I haven’t gotten much done on the revisions of Meet the Larssons, because evenings have been a little jammed.  I’m still on page 107 of the original manuscript, but I’ve written several pages by hand to be inserted there, so I’ve made at least a little progress.

As a side note, Agent Kristen at Pub Rants has posted her own statistics for the last year, and they’re very impressive.  Most impressive are these two:

number of new clients

estimated number of queries read and responded to (and yes, that is up from last year)

Two new clients out of 35,000 queries.  She’s just one agent of course; there are 424 agents listed at the Association of Authors’ Representatives website. Still, those are intimidating odds.  Happy New Year.  Time to get back to the revisions.

Happy Hanukah, everybody!

In Which I Am Interrogated By Harriet the Spy.

Harriet offered to ask anyone five questions.  I volunteered, thinking “Five questions?  How hard could that be?”  Four days later, haggard, bleary-eyed, gaunt, and twitchy from the “extreme” interrogation measures Harriet says are authorized by the Bush administration (I still think the water-boarding was a little over the top), I’m finally posting the answers.

1. Your house is on fire. All the people and pets are already out and safe. You can take only one thing with you. What will it be and why?

That’s easy.  The one thing I would take with me would be my laptop.  And my old laptop, because it has so many unbacked up photos of the kids.  No, wait, that’s two.  And the Mrs.’s laptop, which has pictures from the last few years, plus a whole lot of other stuff that I suspect she hasn’t backed up offsite lately.   And why didn’t I back up more to Flickr? (Update:  I spent a couple of hours this morning and evening uploading several hundred pictures from the last six months to Flickr and organizing them.)

Maybe I should grab one of the big vintage posters over the stairs, my mother’s wedding present to us.

The handwritten markup of the first 107 pages of Meet the Larssons.

The ficus we bought shortly after we got married, which has proven to be unkillable.

My collection of political campaign buttons.

My original wedding band, which doesn’t fit me anymore.

Unfocused Girl’s baby teeth.  I have them all, in dated envelopes.

An Epipen for Junior? No need, the neighbors have the one we’ve given them, so it’s ready if he needs it during playdates with their son.  That would tide us over until we could get another from the drugstore.

The chads I collected during the Florida recount in 2000.

The ultrasound pictures of the Unfocused kids, while they were in utero.

One, two, three…

Screw it.  Let it all go, then.  It’s a lifetime of stuff; take one thing out of context and it’s pointless.  It’s all replaceable, except the things that can’t be salvaged by pulling them, alone, out of a burning building.

2. A benefactor has agreed to fund you for a year. There are no strings attached – you can do whatever you’d like for 12 months, practical or frivolous, and have it all paid for by this person. What will you do?

What will I do?  Probably the two-finger dance, while singing “We’re in the Money” and jumping on the sofa.

We’re in the money

We’re in the money

We’ve got a lot of what

it takes to get along…

Or did you mean, what will I do with the money?  Oh.  Let’s see.

  • Take a one-year sabbatical from work (duh).
  • Work really hard on my writing.
  • Work really hard on taekwondo, so that I end the year as a lean, mean, dealer of bare-handed death.  Let me tell you, that would come in damn handy during settlement conferences.
  • Move for a year, if the family were willing, because it would be fun.  Of the places I’ve spent some time, I’d love to spend a year in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, or Paris.  I only put Paris second because it’s such a cliche, but seriously, yeah, Paris. I love Paris.  See no. 3.
  • Also, maybe we could live in Colorado for a while.  Not Denver; maybe Boulder.  Never been there, but it sounds cool.

3. Tell me about your favorite place (you can interpret this as narrowly or broadly as you like — a cozy chair, an interesting continent). Why is it your favorite? When did you first go there? When did you last go there? What is your favorite memory there? Is there someone you would especially like to take there?

As should be painfully obvious by now, I’m not so good at this whole “choose one” thing.  That could be my epitaph:  “He couldn’t just choose one damn thing and stick with it.”  So the heck with it, you’ll get three.  Don’t like it?  You choose one.

Our study, in our house.  I always wanted a book-lined study, with a comfortable chair, where I could work.  Check that off the list.  I think with the new chair and the sofa, it’s the most comfortable room in the house, a place where the Mrs. and I can work on our projects in the same place at the same time.  My favorite memory there is either last night, when I was sitting in my chair, at the desk, typing the first draft of this post while the Mrs. is on the sofa working on her own thing, or it’s this, from earlier yesterday evening:

Hyde Park, Chicago.  I spent years in Hyde Park, and loved almost every minute of it.  It’s where the Mrs. and I met, where I first lived away from my parents for more than a few weeks, where we had our first apartment.  It’s where I matured from an awkward teenager to an awkward young man. I visited twice before I started school:  for a tour and interview in July, 1986, and Prospie Weekend in April, 1987; I arrived for school in September, 1987, and it was like coming home.  I moved out for the last time in August, 1995, and though I’ve been back to visit, it hasn’t been home since.  Most recently, I was there was for the Chicago Half-Marathon in September.  Would I like to bring anyone?  The Mrs. and I have taken the kids a couple of times; I’d like to take them when they’re starting high school, so they know what they’re working for.  Even if they don’t go to college there, I challenge anyone to spend a weekend walking around Hyde Park, touring the campus, reading all the posters, checking out the buildings (modeled on Oxford and Cambridge, I believe), and not have a desperate need to go to college (or back to college).  My favorite parts:  the reading room at Harper Library; the two Hyde Park bookstores in the Seminary Co-op (The Seminary Co-op Bookstore and 57th Street Bookstore); and the Medici, where our blurry, black and white picture is still on the wall from the move to the current space back in 1989.

Paris, France.  I’ve been to Paris in 1982, 1989, 1996, and 1998.  I’m way past due to go back.  It’s a beautiful city, and there’s far too much to say about it than I have room for here, so I will limit myself to this:  guerilla puppet shows on the Metro, in between stations (not our video, unfortunately, but we saw different shows a couple of times during our trip in 1998). I would happily take the Mrs. and the kids, especially if the Mrs. and I could arrange for a babysitter once or twice while we’re there.

4. Of all the things that you have made or done in your life so far, what are you most proud of? Why does the thing you picked mean the most to you?

My kids.  I think we’re doing a pretty good job with them (most of the time, anyway) and I know they’re turning out great.  Again with the cliches, I know, sorry.  I could talk about the novel and the writing, but I’ll say enough about that in my answer to the next question.  What else?  Hell, I can go on at length about my many failings; choosing among my personal successes (forget about professional success, I’ve done all right, but that isn’t what this is about) is easy.

5. I’ve known you for a long time, but I didn’t know until recently that you’ve wanted to write. And now you’ve got a novel under your belt and you’ve been cranking out stories right and left while managing to hold down a serious day (and sometimes night and weekend) job and parenting your kids. What motivate you to make your life crazier with writing (or does it make it saner?) How do you make the time? Do you have any advice for those trying to figure out how to move from the “wish I could” to “I’ve finished a draft”?

It’s funny you should ask about what motivates me to do this.  As part of outlining my next novel, Project Hometown, using Randy Ingermanson’s Snowflake Method, I’ve been writing character synopses for each major and minor character.  One of the questions to answer in the synposes (at least for the major characters) is what is each character’s motivation, as opposed to his or her goals.  It isn’t an easy task for the characters I’ve made up, where I know them better than anyone and I can type out whatever answer I want.  It’s harder to do that same analysis for myself, but here goes.

In my blogiversary post, I wrote about how I’ve wanted to “be a writer” — regardless of whether I was actually writing at the time — most of my life.  That’s a goal, not a motivation.  As I sit here tonight, I think the reason I wanted to “be a writer” is because I like putting words together and using them to tell stories.  In theory, that’s my job as an attorney, to tell my client’s story persuasively enough to convince a judge or jury that we’re right and the other side is wrong.  In practice, most of what I do is process and tactics; the actual story-telling opportunties are limited.

Did taking up writing make my life saner or crazier?  Yes.

It made me saner.  At the end of 2007, I was burned out at work, and all I could see in the future was more years like 2007.  Whatever else has happened in the world in 2008, it’s the year when I stopped saying that I would do what I wanted to do when I retired, it’s the year when I stopped fooling myself that I was a frustrated writer and started actually writing.

It made me crazier.  I’ve got a very demanding job which hasn’t slowed down due to the economy, two young kids, and a wife I enjoy talking to and spending time with.  I wrote too much of Meet the Larssons on the train — my commute is short, so much of the novel was written in 15 minute bursts, which shows.  It also means I haul my MacBook to and from the office most days; on days when I’m schlepping my ThinkPad from the office, too, my briefcase gets a little heavy.

This runs into the “how do I make time” question.  I’ve given up television (with an exception for election coverage) almost completely.  I don’t read on the train anymore — that’s writing time — and I read less at home as well (my to-read pile of books and magazines has spilled off the nightstand and onto the floor).  I have tried, with some success, to establish borders around my time at home.  I still work at home in the evenings, but not every night and not always as much as I used to, and I try to be better organized about what I do; this has cost me a few billable hours, but not as many as I would have expected.  The Mrs. might say (and probably would) that I have sacrificed some of our time to talk after the kids go to sleep, and she’d be right.  She has also been very understanding and encouraging, and gives me the time I need to do this.

I spend less time running or at the gym.  I managed to keep up my running through the summer, but that’s dropped off in the fall.  I used to lift weights a couple of times a week, and I can only claim to manage once a week now by lying.  I post my work-outs on — it isn’t a pretty picture. I haven’t put on that much weight, but it’s distributed differently.

Also — and I confirmed it with the Mrs. the other day when I was thinking about this — I sleep 30-90 minutes less each night than I used to.  Yeah, I know, I’ll never catch up, yadda yadda yadda.

It sounds like I’m complaining here, but I don’t mean to.  It’s just that there really are only so many hours in the day, and you make decisions about how to use them.

Which brings us to the advice for those who want to move from “Wish I could” to “I’ve finished a draft of my novel.”  The usual disclaimers on advice apply:  I’m not qualified to give anyone advice on writing, so use it at your peril.  Just because it worked for me doesn’t mean that following my advice won’t open a portal into another dimension and allow the demonic denizens to emerge and eat your life force.

The first thing I need to tell you is the realization that got me moving, my real motivation, now that I think about it.  If you want to write but can’t muster the energy to figure out how to fit it into your life, there are two possible outcomes.

  1. You could die.  Thirteen months ago, I was still telling myself that I could write the Great American Novel in retirement.  What if I got hit by a bus before then?  I’m a careful, conservative guy — I try not to walk in front of moving buses — but you never know.  What if you have a heart attack as they’re handing you your gold watch?  Then you’ve never done it, and the rest of us are stuck without the Great American Novel.
  2. You could live.  I thought about what it really meant to wait until retirement to do what I ostensibly “really” wanted to do.  First, it meant another 20-25 years of not doing what I really wanted to do.  That’s just crazy.  Second, I didn’t want to have to start learning how to write at 65.  If a writer has to write a million words of shit before the good stuff comes out (who said that?  Vonnegut?), I’d never make it if I waited that long.  Third, what if I only thought I wanted to write, but was just deluding myself?  What if I’m really meant to do something else, like ice dance, and at 65 I’d be too old to start learning to ice dance?

You need to ask yourself:  Does any good thing happen because I put off doing what I really want to do? And really, what bad thing happens if you don’t put it off, and instead you start now?  For most of us, we have wasted time.  TV shows we watch but don’t really care about; books we only finish because we started them and feel obligated to finish; reading every article in the newspaper; balancing your checkbook; “sleep.”  Blow something unimportant off, and make room for what you think is important.  Maybe you’ll find out it isn’t that important to you.  Maybe you’ll find out just how important it really is.  Either way, I expect you’ll surprise yourself.

Now what about you?  If you want to play, say so in the comments and I’ll come up with five questions to ask you.

It’s My Blogiversary! Special Yearly Stats!

As I start this post, there are 43 minutes left in the one-year anniversary of this blog.  This is because I’m a dipshit, and I forgot.

And I was busy.  I was in court for a while, then had some meetings, y’know, stuff.  But still, no excuse.  So let’s go straight to the recap.

A year ago, I started this blog to try and develop some discipline for writing.  I had always wanted to be a writer, from when I first started typing stories on my father’s Royal typewriter and when I got my own first typewriter — an old one of my mother’s, I think — in roughly 1980.  I wrote a number of science fiction stories in high school and college, none of which (thank goodness) were ever published.

I also wrote a couple of “literary” stories while in college.  None of these went anywhere, either, except the one I read over the air on WHPK because a friend of mine who worked at the station had decided to fill some open time with student-authors reading their work aloud.  I understand that they recovered their lost listeners in a couple of years.

I started a novel after graduating college, and worked on it off and on into law school.  It was about 75 pages when I gave up on it.

And that, ladies and germs, was it.  In my head, I still thought of myself as a writer.  When being a junior litigation associate sucked or I got bored because I didn’t have any new cases, I bought a copy of Writer’s Digest.  But then I’d get busy or something new would come in the door, and the magazine would get recycled and I wouldn’t write anything.  When I got passed over for partner at my old firm, I stalked out of the building, walked over to Borders, and bought a copy of Writers Market.  Then my boss called my cell, and she and her boss met me for lunch, and promised I’d make it next year.  So the next day I went back to work, and the next year I made partner, and I didn’t write anything.

A couple of years later, I changed firms.  And I still didn’t write anything.

Then last year, in mid-December, I burned out.  I’d been working my ass off, and I was bored out of my skull.  I had interesting cases, terrific clients, senior partners I respected and could learn from and people junior to me who I wasn’t afraid to delegate to, and I could barely drag myself out of bed in the morning.

An old friend had recently suggested that the Mrs. and I start up a joint blog to post our every day witty banter for others’ enjoyment — it’s like a frakking sitcom around here, all the time (and yes, I do play the clueless dad, thanks for asking) — but the Mrs. declined.  I got a kick out of the idea, so without having any idea what I was getting into, I registered half a dozen domains and settled on this one.

Four days later, on Dec. 21, 2007, I came home from work and didn’t go back to work until Jan. 2.  I worked from home, hung out with the Mrs. and kids, and thought about what I wanted to do.  The goal, I decided would be to get in the habit of writing with the blog, write one short story and maybe an article in my field, and then do NaNoWriMo in November.

Then I started writing.

And writing.

And writing.

This has been a lot of fun.  The biggest surprise has been meeting people through the intertubes — you’re all on the blogroll on the sidebar, you know who you are — which has been a lot of fun.  I think this blog has served its original purpose, too, which was to force me into the habit of writing regularly, which it has done with the blog entries themselves and with my constant public posting about word and page counts, did I write today, didn’t I write, yadda yadda yadda.  It may be boring you, but it’s keeping my ass planted in my chair and forcing me to write because I hate the posts where all I can say is “Today I sat on the sofa and ate Ho-Hos and watched Stupid Pet Tricks.  Damn, those pets say some wacky stuff!”

16 minutes until it’s over.

So thank you for being out there.  Thank you for reading my occasionally coherent ramblings.  Thank you for commenting, for applauding my rare successes and my more frequent defeats, and for shaming me back to my desk when I need a good shaming.

And now (14 minutes to go) for some stats:

Writing:  153,000 words of fiction, which includes one complete first draft of a novel (104,000 words, 500 printed pages), one 13,000-word novelette (drafted, multiple revisions, submitted to multiple markets), two short stories (revised and out on submission), one short story (first draft completed), and two flash pieces (one posted here, one accepted and published at, plus innumerable drafts and projects started that will probably never see the light of day.

Plus 178 blog posts.

So now I’m a writer, for real, not just in my head.  Now when I read books on writing, or even Writers Market, I’m not just daydreaming.  This is a good thing.

I used to say that I could get back into writing when I was older and had more flexibility, or retired.  All I did was put off doing what I wanted to do, which means that I’ll simply do less of it than if I’d started 10 years ago.  But at least I’ll do more of it than if I had waited another 10 years.

Happy blogiversary to me.  It’s past midnight.  Time to blow out the candles and go to bed.

She’s Got A Future In Hollywood.

Unfocused Girl drew this in the car on the way home from New York Thanksgiving weekend. It may be my favorite of all of her drawings this year, even if it’s a little shaky from the stop-and-go traffic going into Pennsylvania.  The movie industry is all about remakes and sequels, so I think she could go far with this concept:



VAMPIRE:  I vant to suck your blood!

ZORRO: I leave you with this, senor.

WHIP CRACKS:  BAM BAM BAM!  A bloody Z appears on the chest of the vampire.

ZORRO:  For not even I can give you all my blood.  That would give my life to evil.  This is the price you pay when you kill innocent people.

We’ll write up the treatment over winter break and start shopping it to agents and production companies.  Are Affleck and Damon still doing Project Greenlight?  And more importantly, will she give me an executive producer credit?